


you're a part of me, apart from me

by asswords



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, M/M, big brother!Mickey, lots of sadness, mickey basically always hates himself, this is so mickey-centric, trigger warning for guns and fighting, trigger warning for mentions of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asswords/pseuds/asswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are harder things for Mickey Milkovich than love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a part of me, apart from me

**Author's Note:**

> Fucking hell.  
> Okay, well, this kind of starts off right after Ian leaves after "bothering" Mickey while he was shooting in 3x07. I basically go through some scenes that are shown in the show but also some things that are like implied moments. 
> 
> I am too lazy to beta I'm sorry my GOD. 
> 
> Also I'll apologize ahead of time for how choppy some of it is. And I also can't write porn, sorry. Welp.

Mickey shoots off a couple of more rounds at the doll target, his hands firmer on the trigger than they were before. The doll staggers back and shakes at each shot but never falls. He's so hostile and torn up that the air feels ten degrees colder and his hands' muscles cramp.

Ian leaves silently and Mickey used to love the way Ian could depart but sometimes it only feels like Ian was never there at all. It was different when Gallagher left when a night together was over and all that was left was a hidden, flushed smile on the redhead's face.

It's not like that anymore.

It's a fucking reaction at this point - the shooting. Gallagher seemed to just make him fucking itch all over. The fact that he was still trying with Mickey is so fucking ridiculous, it would make him laugh if he had the guts and if his guts weren't bruised. Mickey's still shooting flat clicks of the gun before he actually notices he's out of ammo.

~

Mandy comes to him for help a couple of days later, and he's all about to tell her to fuck off until she tells him it's a job opportunity. He tells her the fucking charge but she starts to protest.

"$500 or it's not gonna happen. I ain't getting my ass risked by some big-boned fucker I don't even know." He's cleaning off his .22 caliber as they speak, not bothering to look up. He can assemble danger together in seconds and it's no secret. Mickey's not a fucking gentle person. He loves the way someone else's flesh feels bruising under his fists, the adrenaline and release coming from a good fight. He does it on his own lot but it's a plus getting paid for it.

"Assface, the Gallaghers are five seconds away from being fucking homeless," Mandy whacks his shoulder and he catches her wrist after and pushes her hand away. It's pointless aggressiveness but why do the fucking Gallaghers always gotta 'round back to him somehow? He wonders if he would care if Ian was out on the streets. Shit, the redhead would probably willingly prostitute himself in the fucking gay world. Mickey stops his brain before he fucking goes further thinking in that direction.

Mickey rubs his lip out of habit and thinks -- because he sure as hell knows he'll look more fucking dumb if he doesn't take some money for just one dude. They've jumped more than one guy for less than $100.

"I'll make a deal so Dad's not gonna fucking think I'm cutting all business for your fucking boyfriend," _and Ian_ , he does not fucking add. "$200 if you help me move some meth next week."

Mandy grins like he just fucking offered the world to her and even says thank you as she saunters off.

~

"I'd like you to meet the wife, Ellen."

Mickey turns his eyes back to Patrick Gallagher, wondering why the fuck this is a possible third time he could get shot for a Gallagher. Fucking hell no.

He lowers his gun, tries to think of ways to get out of this shit but his pussy-assed cousin is still trying to get up. His life is bullshit, man.

"Look, kid, get the fuck out of here, before Ellen decides to test if that rifle will stop _you_."

He's stubborn, but he ain't _that_ stubborn. Mickey bolts, but at least he does it smoothly. It still pisses him off how he couldn’t get a good fight in. His knuckles haven’t been bruised since he fought his dad off Gallagher and he’s been itching for a reminder, the tattoo imbedded into his skin because that’s who he really is. He fucks people up.

~

More shit hits the fan. His name is Mickey. It’s all nothing new.

His dad isn’t home when she first stops by but he swings the door open, ready to tell the fucking fourteen year olds to stop asking for meth, but his stomach gets sick instead. He plays it off because his name is _still_ fucking Mickey.

But it’s not his day. He doesn’t even know what she’s doing here, but he panics for a second, wondering if Terry called for a follow through. Does this cunt even know English? Her hair isn’t down this time though and she’s wearing normal (not a tube top or dress) clothes and she looks tired. He notes the bags under her eyes and tries to feel sympathy for her and her sadness but he can’t because all he remembers is her moaning when he flipped them over. He’s seriously sick to his stomach.

She looks nervous, like he’s about to hit her and she’s five second away from whimpering. He’s five seconds away from doing it but he doesn’t. Be what he is, he’s not his father.

“Pregnant,” She says softly and scared and he raises his eyebrows and laughs. He wants to cry because this all has to be one fucking huge joke. His life is worse than a Hallmark movie, which is as faggy as it gets. Mickey might as well start wearing pink fucking scars since being badass doesn’t get him any protection.

“The fuck makes you think it’s mine?” She’s a fucking prostitute and he was her forced fuck and his load was minimal with the fucking fact that Ian was five feet away, watching. He’s so sick. He hates that she’s here.

“We didn’t use condom,” She says slowly, trying to annunciate through her thick accent. Well shit. He wants to guess if his dad knew that. “I usually careful but your father scary,” She continues. Ah. Silver lining right there. With his fucking luck, they’re gonna be triplets.

She starts to talk about their options, as if he chose to be a part of this. She doesn’t say much but accent stabs him when she says  won’t abort the baby because it costs too much and the doctors would find out she’s an illegal.

She holds herself together, arms crossed over her sweater standing in the chill.

Mickey still doesn’t invite her in.

~

His dad tells him Mickey’s gotta marry her or he’ll cut his balls off. Even more seriously, Terry threatens to kill him. Mickey believes every word because he once wanted to pretend that his dad was bluffing but the last time he did that, a Russian got on him. So it’s final that no son of Terry’s is gonna be a faggot. What better way to prove that than with holy matrimony?

Mickey only agrees because he’s a coward.

But even Anya, which is apparently the Russian’s name, looks unhappy about it, too strained. Like she fucking thinks she could find someone better to give her a legal name. Even that pisses Mickey off.

His dad wants him to do it right, yelling over a bottle of the cheapest whiskey his brothers stole earlier -  that it’s gotta be like how his parents’ wedding was. It’s so fucking hysterical to him that Terry could love someone at all. His dad is a fucking monster in his life, a terrifying, agonizing fixture and it aches him to realize that he loved someone - no, Mickey’s _mom_ with everything until she was gone. Mickey was ten years old when his mom died and he wondered if that was how love usually worked - draining someone of tenderness until there was nothing left.

Mickey doesn’t blink once when his dad tells him exactly what he has to fucking do because it’s the first time he realizes that maybe he’s more like his dad than he thought.

~

“So, is it true? You’re getting married?”

Mickey doesn't flinch when Gallagher finds him in the warehouse. He knew it would be pointless to try to hide from the redhead, especially since the guy seems to always know where he is (even if Mickey spent a week thinking that rooftop was safe).

Mickey stays silent, hoping Gallagher will leave like he did before and give up on him like he should.

He does flinch when Ian throws the bottle across the room and the echoes of shattering glass hit him in a wave of displeasure and the harsh reality.

It shakes him up, causes him to shout his favorite line and it makes the moment that much more bitter.

“Gallagher, what the _fuck_?!”

“Oh, he speaks!” Ian laughs sarcastically and Mickey hates his skin, hates the way the fucking cardigan seems to be choking him and he’s still eager for a battle to destroy him like a war. He struggles to stand -  his balance off, his mind slightly dizzy.

Ian touches him, grabbing and trying to hold on like he always does and Mickey pushes him off, pushes him away like he always does. They would never change who they are, after all.

"Oh, you want to fag bash? That make you feel like a man?"

Ian keeps urging him and he's not fucking stupid, he knows that the redhead's baiting himself for no good reason and it makes him wonder if getting beaten is what Gallagher needs to feel better too. It was doomed from the start. Mickey wants to fight and he lands the first punch to Ian's gut who crumples downward.

"Fuck," Mickey laughs and he finally cries, rubbing furiously at his eyes, trying to pull it together. He thinks that's the end for a second, picking up the bottle from the ground.

"You love me," Ian says intently and he must know he's pushing all the wrong buttons because Mickey tenses and turns around. "And you're gay."

Mickey glares and it's too much for him when Ian stands up, pleading for him to admit it angrily. He wants to remind Gallagher that he's just a warm mouth -- he shouldn't ever fucking ask something of Mickey, but a blow to the face is all he can do instead. He realizes he’s fucking up Gallagher in more ways than one and his knuckles aren’t bruising, and this isn’t what he wants.

Gallagher keeps asking him if he feels better and maybe he does in some part but he feels so much worse at the same time. His head is spinning, he's still gripping the bottle too tight and the sweater is still choking him. He swings his foot at Ian's face, sees the blood splatter and what he thinks might even be a tooth fall out.

He throws the bottle down, a salty taste in his mouth as if it were Ian's blood, and says, "Feel better now." His insides twist and turn and he’s not sure if it’s from the burn of the alcohol but either way, he walks away like he’s fucking fine.

~

Mickey goes to another one of his secret spots that night to get shitfaced. He doesn’t fall asleep once through the night, in fear that waking up with the pain in his head would subside the pain he already has. He thinks about Gallagher for a bit, wonders how bad it really looks. He lies to himself that way, trying to say it only sounded bad in the moment. Maybe his head was making shit up when he saw the blood fly out of Ian’s mouth.

It doesn’t help. Mickey’s a piece of shit and he knows it.

He walks home drunk when morning comes, a bottle still in his hand, and it makes him think he’ll end more like his dad when he becomes a raging alcoholic. He’s already been raped by his future wife -- he definitely still wants to hit her. Abusive, drunk husband. He can see his future crystal clear before him.

Mandy is out cleaning the car and he stills, hand reaching to his cigarette. He’s not worried, he’s _not_ , but he’s pretty sure that’s blood on the windshield.

“What’d ya hit?” He asks, hoping she says a deer.

“Girl at school,” Mandy replies back easily, still scrubbing furiously at the hood of the car. He thinks about when his sister stopped needing him to fight his battles for her and almosts wants to say he’s proud of her. But he’s also fucking scared shitless she’s gonna get herself caught.

“Don’t forget to check for hair behind the grill,” Mickey isn’t helpful often but the Milkoviches have each other’s back in the most fucked up way possible, so it’s okay, just this once. “Call Manny about the windshield.”

He walks up the stairs and almost laughs at what he just said. They’re so fucking Italian.

~

For once in his goddamn life, Mickey thanks the police and their shitty methods for writing off the attempted _murder_ of fucking Karen Jackson as a hit and run.

Mandy gets her ears shouted off when their dad finds out. Saying that she’s not smart enough or careful enough and Mickey sees her eyes brim with tears and he’s five seconds away from beating up his dad again, but she swallows them back before he can. And feels like a bigger coward, wondering if he would even stand up for his own little sister anymore when it comes to his dad.

Only the Milkoviches could make you feel like shit for not being able to murder someone correctly.

Terry finishes by telling Mandy that she’s lucky it didn’t blow up in her face and she just shuts up and agrees.

Mickey enters her room later that night and doesn’t like how he sees her crumpled against the wall, arms around her knees and staring at the floor. His mind flashes to a screaming match in the hallway, when Mandy was too small to feel alright and Mickey was good at reassuring.

“You alright?” He asks, and he doesn’t like how hesitant this feels. Sometimes, he wishes they talked more but he also doesn’t need another person on his back. It all makes no sense to him.

“Eh,” She replies, grinning to the best of her ability. She laughs abruptly. “You’re getting married and I’m the one almost caught for attempted murder. Always thought it’d be the other way around.”

Mickey smirks, moving closer to sit on the edge of the bed and pushing a cigarette in his mouth, “Ain’t no fun getting married though.” He lights the cigarette up and takes a long drag, so used to the way the smoke enters his lungs that it still feels too good to let go of.

“Dad making you do that?” She asks and suddenly he tenses, not liking how the conversation is turning back to him. She looks bored enough though, like it’s simple and he supposes it is for the both of them. Mickey forgets that half of the reason they are this way, with toughened walls and rough defenses, is because of their goddamn family. And it’s too late to go back -- Terry could die tomorrow, and Mickey would still want to be the one people call when they need to order a beating on someone.

“Yeah, you know, he married mom when she was pregnant,” Mickey shrugs, just guessing until this thing inside of him will let him breathe again. He needs to calm down. Shit’s only gonna get worse and he knows it and the whole fucking universe knows it. Mickey might as well be used to what’s suffocating him.

“Yeah, but he actually wanted to marry her. I still don’t get why he’s forcing you,” Mandy says, suddenly staring him down and there’s no way she knows, because Gallagher told him that the only person who willingly found out was Lip. But now Lip is dating his sister and he has no fucking idea what their conversations hold.

“Mickey, the fuck is going on?” Mandy questions forcefully. He should feel relieved at her cluelessness but it just makes him pissed off that he's so good at pretending and she's so good at not noticing anything around her. All of it's not their fault.

But she finally asked and Mickey actually wants her to fuck off but he also wants to tell her everything. He’s too scared and the only words that run through his head are constant repeats of ‘ _You love me and you’re gay_ ’. It’s disgusting what Ian’s done to him. Mickey was never meant for love.

He laughs it off, finally, can see the hurt in her eyes when she sees his ignorance before he can even say anything. “You’re asking me what’s goin’ on when ya fucking almost killed someone? Ask yourself that, headcase.”

"Asshole."

He snorts for extra measure and gets up and leaves the room. That was too fucking close and she's right, he is such an asshole.

~

The wedding is fast and short when it comes down to it.

It happens in a city hall building, with a witness, which Mickey almost thought Terry would volunteer himself for based on how proud of himself he was to hear he fixed his son. Turns out that their witness is just another office lady who had some free time in her break. She's plump and cheery and when she walked by them, she smelled like sweet chocolate. Mickey hates it.

There are no vows because Mickey doesn’t have anything good to say to Anya, doesn’t wanna tell her that holding her hands makes his skin prick with disgust. No one wants to hear it and Mickey doesn’t wanna relive it. He daydreams sometimes about running off while the marriage attorney talks, about making it outta Chicago, about calling Firecrotch from a payphone once he makes it. He wouldn’t make it though, he knows that.

The legal process is short and quick. Terry called in a couple of favors so that the Russian and him can get past the whole 'do you really love each other' bullshit.

He finds the whole thing fucking ironic because Ian’s always been screwing geriatric married pricks. Here he is five minutes away from being one and he’s pretty sure he’ll ever get to fuck Ian again. Mickey signs his name on the dotted line and their witness actually fucking giggles and says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!"

Mickey let's go of Anya's hands immediately and doesn't kiss her.

~

The Milkoviches are best at doing things half-assed and so when they get back, there’s a celebration awaiting them. Alcohol and people is what he should really say but it's definitely a Milkovich style party.

Some of his cousins congratulate him on both the baby and her. Some of them even jokingly ask if they can borrow her occasionally. He laughs it off with them, doesn't say how they could fucking have her as much as they wanted. Mickey knows it's probably not even that uncommon in this family, but he figures it won't look that good on his wedding day.

There’s still all this unwanted attention and Mickey hates that even the guys he used to beat people up with are looking at Anya like he’s _lucky_ , like he should be fucking happy he was pushed into a marriage.

At one point, he sees the Russian, _Anya_ , he corrects standing awkwardly with two of his aunts. She looks like she's struggling to keep up with what they're saying, her hand clutched around her drink. Mickey hates her but even more than that, he hates that he pities her.

He strides over, he doesn't need to make an excuse or fake grin because people know him well enough to know he's not that kinda person. He wraps his fingers around his wrist and tugs her away from others. People hoot at them and Mickey wants to let go but he also wants her to follow him.

He takes her to his room. His boyish, angry teenage room and forgets for a second that she's older. Not by much but it still makes a difference to him.

"Would you abort it? If I could get the money?" He doesn't say how he probably won't give her a choice. He waits for her answer first.

"Yes," She answers without hesitation, her eyes widening in surprise at the question.

It's the first time he feels okay with himself because this is the one thing that's played in his favor. He woulda felt worse if he had to force her. All he knows is there's no way in hell that kid is gonna be counted as his own. Mickey's too young and he never wanted it to happen like this.

He doesn't smile at her but she gives him a second glance that feels more like a second judgement.

"That boy--" Anya starts and the rest of it is a question. That boy that had to watch. That boy who Mickey kicked. That boy who Mickey still feels an ache in his chest for.

His face says enough, he's sure, but they're alone and he breathes out, "Yeah." It just confirms what didn't need to be said.

~

He stays away from any Gallagher for the next three weeks while he desperately raises money before it's too late into the pregnancy. He still has plenty of time but he also has a lot of money to get. Mickey asks around for more “job” offers and only manages to get some family members who needed some people off their back. They get the family discount so Mickey is still behind by a solid $213 because his Aunt Stella wouldn’t pay up.

Mickey sometimes wishes that Anya could whore herself around just for the pay but she can’t with the baby. And that’s why they’re fucking doing this in the first place. At one point, Mandy says she can help out with some money, and even though he doesn’t think he has any pride or dignity left, he doesn’t fucking accept. This is his mess, he can handle it.

But he finally makes all the cost. Because Mickey is many things but not undetermined. He holds all $600 dollars in his hand and then borrows a car to drive Anya to the clinic. He watches her go in, doesn’t go with her, but watches until she hands the money to the clerk and then swerves out of there to get a drink. Mickey just didn’t trust her.

He picks her up two hours later and he can see the bandages under her shirt and he feels so relieved by it. There’s no fucking future rape baby courtesy of both of them. He doesn’t have to worry about screaming and crying in the night louder than what he already imagines. He’s just not ready, that’s all.

Mickey and Anya never touch each other, never become friends, but they seem to have an agreement, an understanding enough that he can fuck a guy in an alley and come home to no one while she goes out and does whatever, he doesn’t care.

It hasn’t been that long since he’s seen Gallagher, maybe two months at most, but not longer than any juvie stint. It should sting more but Mickey has been trying to be okay, trying to hate himself a little less and trying to wonder if Ian knows how fucked up he is.

Mickey finally comes around in his head. Terry wants him to move out with Anya and get a place and he doesn’t say anything about the irony in how perfectly fine it was with him. They need a lot more fucking money though, so Mickey fully plans to up his stakes in meth transfers and dealing. It’s a Monday when he feels safe again.

He goes to the usual rooftop that Gallagher spends his time at and finds it cluttered with tires and practice tools but it still feels so empty. He debates getting up and going to the house, but he’s never liked it too much around there. Doesn’t like the way that there’s so much love and family shit going on in there all the time. Mickey always feels like he’s coming from a quiet pit to chaos and it’d be too much for him to handle sometimes.

The night is fucking freezing and there’s not much shelter from the wind. Mickey only thought to wear a normal hoodie instead of an actual fucking jacket. He’s ain’t the fucking smartest, that’s for sure. He falls into a shivering sleep, not more uncomfortable than he usually feels in his own skin some nights. He’s not a fucking pussy though, he can handle a chill.

It’s early morning when he shivers awake, a shadow above him making him just a little colder.

“Mickey?”

It’s so innocently curious that Mickey has a smaller reaction than he thought he would when he sees Gallagher. He’s still a redhead. His face is all healed up easing Mickey’s shame more than he feels he deserves. He just stands up, easier this time, with a clear head.

Ian backs up when he does and that’s what makes him feel like total shit. It’s not that Ian’s scared of him - he fuckin’ baited him, neither of them can deny that, but the guy’s wary of him now.

“What are you doing here?”

Mickey’s still waiting for the moment when Gallager pays him back or yells, or anything, really. But he just looks tired, and so is Mickey, really. He doesn’t have the energy to put up with all of his own shit anymore. Something’s gotta give and he doesn’t mind too much giving to Ian.

Ian’s eyes flicker to his hand and he bites his lip and looks at the ground, trying to expand that scrutinizing gaze and yet lessen the space between them.

“So, you actually did it,” Gallagher comments, ready to scoff and Mickey’s trying so hard here not to lose his shit because it’s a fucking miracle that he’s even _here_ right now and Ian needs to fucking see that.

“Yeah,” Mickey says harshly and words spill from his mouth, because his chest is heating up and he’s not that cold anymore. “Yeah, I fucking did it. But you know what? I fucking helped pay for that abortion, and she goes off and screws guys in the night because she knows I could give less fucks. And I’m not here for you to fucking judge me.”

“Then what the fuck are you here for, Mick?!” Ian loses his shit again, always getting to a breaking point with him and it’s so bad but Mickey’s glad he does. Glad that Gallagher can toss back a yell just as good as he receives one, maybe even better. He was never a fucking bitch for anyone, Mickey knows that.

He laughs bitterly though, thumb coming up to his lip out of habit when he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how. The words aren’t that fucking difficult most of the time, Mickey just doesn’t know how to execute them without being an asshole. He looks at anything but Ian and smirks but says too quietly, “I admit it.”

“What?” Ian asks again, looking like he honest to god didn’t catch a fucking word of what just happened. Mickey _still_ has the shittiest luck. Especially when Ian turns to leave the rooftop, calling over his shoulder, “I don’t have time for your bullshit anymore.”

Mickey rolls his eyes at that and almost laughs at the fucking drama queen storming off. “Calm your shit, Firecrotch!” He shouts after him, loud enough this time. “I said I fucking _admit_ it!”

Gallagher turns around in a fucking flash, no doubt knowing exactly what Mickey’s fucking saying, and he even looks a little livid when he stomps towards him. He punches Mickey in the shoulder as hard as he can, and then punches him again.

“You are such a fucking asshole,” He says though each punch becomes more lighthearted and Mickey just laughs boisterously, for the first time in a while and grabs Ian’s wrists to stop him. Firecrotch, and it’s nice to think of him as that again, drops his head down and it’s all pretty goddamn bittersweet. His smile fades as fast as it came.

“I hate you so much,” Ian shakes his head seriously and if it were any other person, they’d believe him, but Mickey knows better. Especially by now. He doesn’t laugh when Ian says it because he knows that there’s a small part of it that’s true. The other half is blurred by the way Ian treats him so fucking normally sometimes it scares him, or when he can make Mickey laugh with the worst puns known to man.

They have sex on the rooftop that night. It’s great and it’s fast because Ian isn’t fucking gentle with him, still angry, still upset. He grabs onto Mickey so tight he’ll bruise and it’s so fucking great, and it’s so much better than his knuckles aching. This is something different, something harsher and messier and he loves it.

Mickey doesn’t stay for an afterglow. He still has to get back home and Ian still looks at the hand with his ring sometimes like he fucking lost a chance. They never mention how Mickey kicked the same face he kissed. Gallagher doesn’t expand on Mickey ‘admitting it’, knowing it’s as close as he’d ever get. It’s so fucking messed up because they’re back to right before and right at the beginning. It’s all a blur to Mickey but that suffocation seems to shed off him when Gallagher fucks him so hard like he means something.

Mickey doesn’t know if he’ll ever get divorced or if his dad will ever back the fuck off. He doesn’t know if he won’t get caught again and sometimes he’s so fucking scared but that’s when Ian will come around to the shitty apartment Anya and him rented, and give her a nod, no awkward mention of how he’s still sleeping with her husband. Mickey’s pretty sure Ian hates her too, and it only reminds them of what they gotta be scared of. He doesn’t like it some days, still feels like Ian pushes too hard and Mickey will always push him away. Ian fucks other guys and so does he, even though he’ll boil with jealousy at the thought because he's a hypocrite.

He doesn’t kiss Gallagher often, but when he does, Ian knows to hold onto to it as much as he can.

Because Mickey admitted it and that was enough for now.


End file.
